


That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Boss

by verymerrysioux



Series: The Legend of Zelda: An Isekai Journey [3]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:00:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26790274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verymerrysioux/pseuds/verymerrysioux
Summary: He wants to say it’s hard living with the realization that one day an elf twink will be his doom, but honestly anything in this world could kill him. The monsters that never die, the goopy malice in lakes, a particularly murderous flower girl.The elf twink is easy to predict so he makes plans around that, it’s one less possible death to worry about.
Relationships: Kohga & Link, Link & Original Yiga Clan Character(s) (Legend of Zelda)
Series: The Legend of Zelda: An Isekai Journey [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1709500
Comments: 38
Kudos: 102





	1. all routes lead to doom and you don't like it

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of this fic is based on [the Potato-verse](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1746250) but I decided not to include it in the series yet since there aren't any heavy mentions to the now vast alternate universe [EstaJay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EstaJay/pseuds/EstaJay) and I spawned and I want to assure you guys it can be a stand-alone fic. Most of it right now is the Sheikah language in [Love is Not A Potato.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23712469)
> 
> I'll probably add it in eventually. If I write more chapters lmao

One advantage of being as eccentric as he was powerful: the sanity of his decisions is often questioned later.

This was no exception.

So when he says he’s making a cease order of all and any activities that messed with Hyruelean lives? They better do it.

And they will.

Be it out of respect of his position, fear of his power, or the reasonable assumption that getting hit on the head by a shrine ball flying at the speed of a guardian’s laser would maybe-probably-likely scramble his brain just a tad bit and make him weirder than he usually is.

Probably all three.

The worst to happen is that they’ll make plans to sabotage him, get rid of him, and replace him. The elders won’t be happy, the traditionalists will hate it, and the glue that binds all of them may thin and weaken. He’s risking losing a good chunk of the clan (as old-fashioned as they may be).

But by the time they’ve gathered the courage to stand up to him, to challenge his right to lead, it would already be too late. He’s going no holds barred for his goals. They won’t keep up with his changes, and in a year they’ll be busy with _other_ events to focus on him (at least, he hopes so).

He sighs as the council explodes with shouts at his announcement, wishing dearly he had a plate of snacks to nibble on. His worries had increased in just one day and he knows it will get worse from here.

It’s ninety-nine years since Calamity Ganon struck and he remembers living a life before this one. In a different world as a different person.

His name is Kohga and he is a boss in a video game.

* * *

He thanks his pre-”Got concussed by an ancient ball so hard your past life flashed before your very eyes”-self (he’s calling it pre-remembered self for short) that he already had plans to help the hero if he ever awoke. 

Though calling the order of not killing the hero too hard was a plan that barely had time in the oven, sliding in and out of it for less than a minute. His order was so lukewarm it might as well be cold, a carefully worded suggestion with gentle and slow tones so as not to poke the sensitivities of old farts with older dusty beliefs.

This would be easier if they weren’t so obsessed with their hate.

Not that he could blame them. The game’s lore on the Sheikah and Yiga was an inch on the tip of the iceberg, ghosting the surface of Hyrule’s bloody history. There are many people who join the Yiga clan without fail. Every year, every generation, every decade. Enough to keep the Yiga active and alive for ten thousand years.

Hyrule has the habit of angering its people to rebellion. Often extreme rebellion.

But right now, with Hyrule fragmented and having no unifying government, it’s pathetic to keep tormenting Hyruleans who already struggle with going out of their homes. Most of them were born post-Calamity and never knew what life was like when the royal family ruled the kingdom.

There’s also the inconvenient growth of his moral compass since he gained his past life’s memories, but saying that to them is asking to get killed.

“You heard me the first and second time, I’m giving the order to cease attacking any Hyruleans,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s a waste of energy and time to ambush a merchant when buying their goods work just as well.”

“First you give us a no-kill order for Hyrule’s hero and now you stretch it for its people, your impure blood has made your heart soft,” one of the elders said snidely. “Why not barge into the castle and save _your beloved cousin_ too?”

It’s only his infinite well of patience and years of politics that keep him from murdering the old farts. He could kill them, it would be laughably easy and brutal. Mortal Kombat levels of brutal. But it would cause more problems that it wasn’t worth the satisfaction of blood spilt.

“We’re a warrior clan, not a gang of rowdy bandits,” he states firmly, ignoring that jab. He expected his ancestry to be tossed like a banana peel, waiting for him to slip. “It had been fine-” Not really. “-when we had fought the knights during the age of burning fields, but now it’s only Zora Domain that has an actual army of trained warriors—and they rarely leave their territory. What pride is there to slit a man’s throat when he’s never held a sword in his life?”

“So we kill the Zora!” some idiot declares. “They’re just as bad as the Hylians! Their princess had been the hero’s betrothed!”

Jusako, _no._ “No murdering Hyruleans unless they’re a direct threat.” He punctuates each word, glaring at the idiot who shouted that idea. The idiot shrinks back, stammering an apology. “If I even hear a _whisper_ of our clan ambushing travellers, I will deal with it personally. The missions I’ll be giving to all of you will be too vital to waste on petty revenge.”

“Petty?!” one of the old farts roars. “Hyrule has been our mortal enemy for ten millennia and you dare to call it petty?!”

“What are these missions that you’re putting a stop on our current ones?” Iga inquires, sensible as always, showing that they are the best.

He leans forward and smiles.

“Something we should have done years ago,” he says, he taps on a few runes inscribed on the table and a large scroll materializes. He catches it before it falls. “We’re going to update our hundred year old map in our database. There are villages that don’t exist anymore, and several that do but aren’t recorded.”

“We’re not cartographers,” another old fart scoffs. 

“We gather knowledge just as much as we gather power.” It’s the one thing he respects with the current Sheikah, their pursuit of knowledge. “And I personally would like to know exactly where Lurelin Village is in the convenience of my pad instead of unfolding a large map every time,” he chides, waving the scroll. 

It would also be a boon to have once the hero awakens. If he’s as teleport trigger-happy as most players, predicting where he would go will be crucial.

Soft murmurs fill the meeting room, each Yiga talking to their companions about the task. Hyrule was not only big, but dangerous. The game only showed monster camps. Not their nests, or forts, or breeding grounds.

Monsters lurk in with what used to be villages, making them their homes. They breed, excessively so, and with the blood moon ensuring the mature ones never die, their population grows every year. Culling the young was something every inhabitant did to control their growth, even pacifistic villages like Hateno practice it.

It’s not enough.

His pre-remembered self had seen the numbers rise bit by bit, the rate getting faster and faster by _months_. The monsters had to stop, had to stay dead, and if it meant siding with Hyrule then so be it. He only hoped the hero would awaken soon.

“Mapping the monster dwellings is a priority too,” he adds, unrolling the scroll to reveal a map. The map is large, covering half the table. He circles the Gerudo Desert with his finger. “The monsters are starting to make camps in the desert, and we need to keep them in check.”

Every point he makes on the map has the room become louder and louder. Worried murmurs and alarmed whispers building up to the conclusion he thought of days ago.

The desert had been a primary choice for their base because of its small monster population. The temple they currently reside in had been a stroke of luck (and his debut for being a possible candidate as clan head, unintentional as it was). The Yiga have had to move out from several bases during this age of calamity, and to do so again would be unpleasant.

“We can’t waste our time on petty revenge.” He looks pointedly at the elder who had been enraged by his words. “Monsters are a bigger threat than a Hylian minding their own business. Until the hero awakens, we have other problems to deal with.”

It would also be a way to keep the Yiga busy. Frustration will rise once the hero awakens and they weren’t allowed to kill him, and it will get worse once he assigns people to guard him. They need other missions that won’t make them think he was doing this for Hyrule’s benefit.

With the mapping of Hyrule, he plans to squeeze in other things. Waycircle inscribing, finding shrines, building of more outposts, monster hunting, spying in villages. 

“So either choose your duty to protect the clan.” With a flick of his wrist, the map glows, rises, and rolls itself neatly back into a scroll. “Or your urge to satisfy a fleeting itch.”

* * *

They have been Kohga’s trusted adviser for years, chosen because of the bond of trust they built since childhood. They have been with him before he was clan head. Defended him constantly when every action and decision he made was always pushed and prodded by the elders.

“You’ve never been this aggressive with your plans,” they comment once Kohga enters his study and activates the privacy spells he inscribed on the walls. “Not for a long time.”

“Maybe I’m having my midlife crisis,” Kohga jokes, gesturing for them to sit. He preferred large cushions and soft carpeting rather than chairs and tables, something he got from nai. “Trying to relive my youth by sticking it up to the old farts.”

They choose their usual cushion and sit. “You had your midlife crisis years ago.”

He chuckles. “Harsh as always.”

“This is something else.” There was urgency weighing every word he said, he hadn’t even gone through his usual showmanship to ease the mood. "Did you have a vision?"

"A vision?" he asks, turning to them. He's wearing glasses, not contacts. Red horn-rimmed ones that make his eyes look bigger. Blue eyes, and against the red frames they stand out even more. “What makes you think that?”

“You’re preparing for something, and you’ve been acting strange since your recent injury.”

Kohga would do everything to hide his eyes.

Blue is many things. The soft glow of their machines. The so-called wisdom of Nayru. The fallen knights and their champions. The eyes of the princess. The fabric of a warrior's scarf.

A hero's blue, a sacred blue, a royal blue. A constant reminder he hates. Proof that blood, no matter how ancient, can persist even through ten millennia worth of persecution and exile.

There is something in those pure Hylian eyes. Something that makes their hair rise and spine shiver. That urges them to kneel and whisper clumsily formed oaths that their clan had thrown away for centuries. They wonder if this is how the Sheikah felt around the princess and her kin. A thrall woven into their ancestors so long ago by a goddess. 

The pull is stronger now, where before it had been like a string wrapped on his wrist and tugging, one they attributed to the urge to protect their family. Now it was a thick cord, pulling with such a force that it could make him fall. Sharp and sudden.

"I suppose I did," he murmurs, pushing his glasses. The gleam shields the piercing blue for just a moment, enough to shake away their musings. "Visions of the past and future, is that odd?"

Not for your blood, they think but don't say. "The goddesses can be generous, even to us. A foolish act, but one we shouldn't squander."

He smiles, a playful quirk they have never seen in a long time. It’s genuine, lacking the manufactured charm he built to gain the trust of his fellow Yiga. "Foolish and merciful are often the same."

“Is mercy what we’re doing?”

“It can’t be worse than what we’ve been doing for centuries.”

“The Yiga should never show mercy.” Not to the ones that betrayed them first.

“The Yiga should never be foolish either,” he refutes, walking towards his study. He brings out a book, an old tome, and flips through it gently. “Do you think our clan has gotten better in these years, Iga?”

They answer with silence.

“Perhaps my visions have seen our ancestors in another light.” They look at the tome’s cover, Kohga’s eyes gaining a spark as he skims through each page. Vintage leather, the Sheikah eye in tarnished gold, the teardrop replaced with goddess crest. An old branch clan symbol, from when Kohga’s ancestors had still been Sheikah. “Pragmatic and logical. When your home is ablaze with flames from demons, surely it’s wise to side with a goddess who wants to protect it, is it not?”

They break away from their observations to look at him in disbelief. “That goddess abandoned us.”

“And we decided her enemy was the next best choice?” He closes the book and shakes his head. “Almost a century has passed and have we truly changed?”

“Hyrule is suffering.”

“And so are we.”

Silence. They can’t refute that. Monsters grow, malice spreads, and villages become smaller each year. The Calamity blesses several of them with revival every blood moon, but the Yiga can’t live on that alone.

“Serving Hyrule did not protect us, fighting Hyrule did not strengthen us.” He stares at the map pinned to the wall, notes of ancient code scattered in every area they can see. The map was something Kohga requested, one he showed in the meeting without his usual flourish. They’re surprised how much notes are covered in it after a day. “The chance of revival isn’t worth it if we’re still treated worse than dogs. We traded an ungrateful master for another one.” 

They clench their fist. “Are you saying we go back to our old one?”

He snorts. “No, we tried playing this game in so many ways. Switched factions, explored routes, used cheats, exploited glitches. It’s never worked, and I think it never will.”

They know that tone. It’s the same one that ends with a messy slurry of heart-attack inducing stupidity and suicidal brilliance. They’re both looking forward and fearing the response to their next statement. “You have a plan to change it.”

He smirks and pushes his glasses. “It’s simple, if you don’t like a game, then leave and play another one.” He tilts his head. “What are your thoughts on Holodrum?”

“... You may need to elaborate.”

* * *

The plan Kohga has is straightforward. The Yiga leave Hyrule, they cut their losses and move away. Tear the jagged bonds that still cling to them even after generations have passed and wipe all the risk of Hyrule dragging them back again.

Straightforward, but not simple.

“It’s difficult to move around Hyrule, much less leave it,” he comments, sticking a few more notes on his wall map. “We need supplies for the journey, a safe route if we’re bringing children, and transportation that’s enough for half of us at minimum.”

The notes are unreadable to them, written in ancient code. They wonder if Kohga’s visions had given him insight on deciphering it. He writes them with such ease and mastery to the point he uses it as a way to encrypt his own writing. 

“Half?”

“Intel first before anything, we send scouts and see our options. It’s been almost a century since Hyrule was in contact with the outside world, things could have changed.” He taps his chin. “And there may be those who don’t want to leave as well.”

That makes sense, as much as the Yiga declare their hate on Hyrule, it’s been their home for years. 

He truly has thought about this, even if it sounds brazenly rash. They huff, though his declaration of making the hero off-limits for killing had also been brazenly rash at first glance too. 

“Keeping the hero alive would solve half of the problems,” they admit hesitantly.

“Safety would be ensured without the guardians and eternally reviving monsters,” he agrees. "And for that to happen the Calamity needs to go."

They’re thankful none of the more conservative Yiga are around to hear that. It had taken several leaps of dubious logic for Kohga to convince them that helping the hero, no matter how indirect, would not go against their beliefs. 

Both of them had to bring up an ancient genealogy record to show the hero was distantly related to the Yiga, reasoning they have to protect him as he’s family. It was splitting an already split strand of hair.

“And if my visions are right, we could have an easy route for our moving once the hero awakens.” He grins, picking up a neon green pin. He tacks one on the map. “The journals I read talk about a tower built in Holodrum, one that’s exactly the same as the ancient towers our ancestors once built for easy teleportation.”

“They’re not active.” Not all of them were excavated, the Calamity halting all progress in the Sheikah archaeological digs. Who knows where they are deep underground?

“They will be once the hero awakens and activates the central tower in the Great Plateau.” He tacks on several more green pins and switches to the blue ones. “Then we can have our artificers drool on those overgrown shafts all they want until they figure out a way to connect it to our devices. If we can’t go directly to Holodrum, then at least more teleportation points would make gathering supplies and plotting a route easier.”

“You thought this through,” they murmur. “Did you really see the future?”

He turns to look at them, eyes bright like a clear sunny day. They have nothing else to focus on, nothing to excuse looking away, locked in on the endless blue he was cursed (blessed) with. 

“I saw more than that,” he says, grinning, making him look decades younger with the glee contained in it. His feverish delight threatened to infect them as well. “I saw _possibilities._ ”

The same urge to vow-protect-fight stirs within them, soul fed with delicious sweet warmth that fuels their spirit. Maybe it's the thrall, maybe it's their love, maybe it's both. It’s been so long since their little brother had acted like this. Young, eager, excited.

“Ones we can take and make our own.”

* * *

“What does running laps around the base have to do with the plan?”

“Ah, that’s just part of my new regimen!” He laughs, scratching his head sheepishly. “I’ve been neglecting my training, don't you think? I can’t let my skills go rusty.”

They give him a look.

“... I may also want to lose a bit of weight.”

“Stop eating so much turon.”

“It’s the only thing that helps me deal with stress!”

* * *

"How long do we have?"

"Until the hero awakens? It could be today or tomorrow." He hums, sorting out all the books on his desk. "All I know is that the princess is at her limit after a century of fighting."

A century. It's been ninety-nine years. They doubt it's a coincidence that Kohga gained those visions. "So in a year then."

"A year to a countdown we can't calculate, for a doom we can't see. Could either be the Calamity finally freed or the princess out for revenge," he says. "One of those will happen, and I don't want any of us to be caught masks off and knives blunted when it does."

* * *

A year passes when the artificers report a blip on the new map system they developed. A spike of energy near a pin on their map, one at the Great Plateau. 

The Shrine of Resurrection.

* * *

This was the plan: Kohga would scout the Great Plateau and find the source of the blip.

Many protested. This was their clan head, their leader, and to let him go to a mysterious spike of energy was preposterous. It would take weeks for him to get there, and many more to come back. 

Teleportation didn’t exist in or near the Great Plateau. No waycircle was made, their attempts to inscribe one always destroyed the next day. There were different theories as to why. Hyruleans adventurous enough to climb up the walls take whatever they thought valuable, monsters (they tend to break everything), or animals gone feral and angry. 

The more superstitious say a vengeful spirit haunted the plateau, and didn’t like their home tampered with. 

Of all the theories, they didn’t think Kohga affirms the last one might be the case.

“The king of Hyrule died there, I doubt he moved on,” he muses, spreading his wide array of weapons on the floor, picking each and every one of them. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he was waiting for the hero.”

Leave it to their little brother to casually state that.

“That’s one more reason you shouldn’t go!” they insist. “Let someone else do it, many of us are willing!”

“And if my suspicions are correct and the hero has awoken?” He packs several knives and kunai in his satchel. “I trust you, but I can’t say the same to the others.”

He laughs and gives them a mischievous grin. “Besides, I’m curious what the hero is like in person.”

A lot of things have changed with their little brother since the accident, but some still remain the same, like his childish urge to poke at things that interest him. Dangerous or not. Enemy or not. 

They groan. “But to go alone? Surely a guard would be reasonable.”

“I’m more than capable of fending for myself, everyone is busy with their own missions.”

“Then I can-!”

“Stay here and lead the clan while I’m away,” he says, picking up one of his sickles. “And no, it has to be me, I’m the one who’s seen a possible future—I’m more likely to adapt to any situation related to the hero if need be.”

“But-”

“I’m not a pampered prince that needs hand holding!” he snaps, glaring at them. “I was a warrior long before I was clan head, I don’t need or want royal treatment!”

They swallow back a protest. 

He lets out a breath. “I know you’re worried, and I can’t promise that I won’t be in danger.” He looks at the sickle, examining it from side to side. He puts it in the bag. “But at least have some faith in my abilities.”

“I always have faith in you, Kohga.”

He laughs bitterly. “Wish everyone else was the same." He picks a war axe, giving it a test swing. “Meetings would be shorter if I didn’t have to do some lightshow to prove my strength.”

It’s not strength they doubt, they don't say. 

“I’ll have my pod with me,” he assures them. “If anything goes wrong, you’re just a call away. It’s not like I’m heading straight for the castle.”

“Thank all the deities for that,” they mutter.

And that had been the end of it.

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Check the shrine and report his findings. Iga didn’t expect a call in the middle of the night and hearing their brother making another brazenly rash decision. 

“The kid’s a mess and the king’s an idiot.”

Of course he would meet the spirit of the king. “The kid?” 

“The hero.”

“He’s awake, then.”

“I wouldn’t trust the kid to hold his own against a chuchu, much less the Calamity,” he says, angry and frustrated. “The shrine kept him alive, but there’s consequences in sleeping for a century, ancient magic or not.”

Something sinks to the pit of their stomach, heavy like stone. “Consequences?”

“I’m no healer, but from the looks of it, he’s missing several stages of recovery,” he sighs, and they hear him shuffle around things in the background. Was he setting up camp? “He’s still figuring out how his limbs work, he has the stamina of the world’s laziest toddler, and he’s as light as nine palm-sized apples. His amnesia is tame compared to all of these, how he got out of the shrine by himself is a miracle.”

Oh, no, they can hear the gears in Kohga’s mind turning to a direction they didn’t like. “Surely, you’re not thinking of watching over him?”

They’re not there, but they can see the shrug in their mind’s eye. “Our plan was to help the hero anyways, what’s adding another level to it?”

“The elders won’t like that.”

“The elders can swallow my whole fucking banana.” 

That is not an image they neither wanted nor needed in their head. “Kohga.”

“He’s got nobody else to keep him alive!” he defends. “The king should never be responsible for anyone’s wellbeing! He keeps giving him apples, just apples!” They hear more shuffling and another voice in the background, a soft voice asking who he was talking to. “At least give him a sword if you’re going to play the kooky old man!”

_“Kohga.”_

“It’s only until I find someone who can take care of him,” he assures them. “Once he’s strong enough, I can lead him to Kakariko. The Sheikah will be happy to have him.”

Lady, help them. First Kohga’s gone to the place where the spirit of the king haunts, now he plans to go to the village of their enemy clan. “Just… please be careful.”

“You make it sound like I look for trouble,” he complains, and they can hear more rustling in the background. “I’ll have you know that I don’t, it’s the world that keeps throwing chaos at me.”

* * *

Five months later, Kohga teleports back with a surprise stowaway. Proving that while the world throws him chaos, it’s him that decides to keep it instead of tossing it aside.

"... Kohga."

"So there were complications in bringing the kid to Kakariko," he starts quickly, pulling the Hylian boy behind him as if he was ten again and trying to sneak in another cucco (mother was allergic and never appreciated the feathered monsters, source of eggs or not). "They're not equipped to help him."

"Hi," the hero greets, peeking out and giving an awkward wave. "I'm Link."

Lady, help them. "Kohga, he looks fine."

"No thanks to them," he snorts. "I spent months getting him to shape and their help amounted to a bunch of overdramatic impositions."

"They gave me a nice tunic?" the hero adds.

"After I _convinced them to_." He scowls and crosses his arms. "And they had the gall to imprison me!"

They’re beginning to understand why Kohga ate piles of turon to deal with his stress, they have the urge to try it. "You said you'd be careful!"

"I was!"

"He tried to punch an old lady," the hero refutes. "And then said a bunch of things that I'm pretty sure were mostly swear words."

"She was asking for it!"

"I don't think Impa was doing anything that deserved punching."

Impa? The Sheikah clan head Impa? He had insulted the clan head, almost punched her, and was captured and jailed? Jusako, why. _"Kohga."_

"They were just as bad as the king!" he defends. Anger and indignation in his voice. "What kind of-?! If it were in our clan, it would have been different!”

“The Sheikah may do things differently.”

“If differently is another word for nothing, then yes they do a whole lot differently!” he spits. “You send a warrior with nothing and expect him to fight the most dangerous being in Hyrule? They didn't even give him the champion's tunic when it was his in the first place!"

"Kohga," the hero murmurs, tugging at his sleeve. He looks around uneasily, hiding further as people enter the teleportation room to look at the commotion.

"Let's talk about this in your study," they sigh, a headache beginning to form. They can't use the excuse of allergy to get rid of this stray, and judging from Kohga's stubborn look and determined frown, they won't be able to. 

Mother once said Kohga would bring change, nai agreed too, they don't think their parents meant something like this.


	2. you're not the only isekai in the world pal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kohga puts his new knowledge into good uses, and that a "secret language" isn't so secret after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing is hard okay.
> 
> Sheikah language is based on this fic, [Love is Not a Potato](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23712469/chapters/56937538) and is also spoken by the Yiga. If I don't put notes at the end of the chapter, it's because there are notes for it in this fic and I'm lazy xD

He spends the whole day resting, even though a potion and a minor cure spell from the healers had fixed his head wound. Iga has always been a worrywart, and he decides he might as well indulge their hovering by staying in his study and reading a few journals. 

It’s bizarre looking at these again with a new set of memories. 

Yesterday he would have seen this as ancient code. A cipher that not even the Sheikah had cracked. Journals from his ancestors thousands of years ago, ones that survived through the exile, through the many changes of his clan, through the slow purge of his bloodline.

There was a time he considered throwing all of his family’s heirlooms away. All that had the wingcrest embossed on it. He thought it would be a way to show his clan he was loyal, that he would never betray them and sully their name.

Nai didn’t want to, ancient scrolls and tomes were the only things she had left of mom (they don’t talk about what happened to the house, he barely remembers it anyways), and she said it may be useful in the future. To burn knowledge would be a great hypocrisy to their clan.

He’s glad he listened to her.

_I’m getting a little crazy bottling this up. I don’t have anyone to share this with, so I guess this is the next best thing. It feels more real if I put it on paper._

_P.S: If you can read this and you’re not me, then you’re probably from another world, aren’t you? Hello! I’m the same too!_

Though he doesn’t think she meant something like this.

* * *

This is how the journal starts.

A young girl hits her head so hard that not even healing magic could fully cast it away. Leaving a jagged scar on her forehead. 

It’s not the only thing that lingers.

She remembers a different life in a different world. A world with no magic, no goddesses, no triforce. There were machines like the ones Sheikah built, little appliances that made life easier. 

After reading her description of the technology that existed, he has to put down the journal, lean back, and stare blankly at the ceiling—imagining what kind of Hyrule he could have lived in if Sheikah knowledge wasn’t destroyed. She describes it as clunky, the Sheikah dipping their toes in the pool that was automated machinery and finding its scientific waters pleasantly cool. 

There were artificial lights instead of oil lamps and candles. Brick stoves and ovens replaced with sleek metal contraptions that even she admits looks modern in her standards. Teleportation that didn’t need rare materials of the highest quality, a parchment process that demanded every step to be perfect, and ridiculous amounts of magic. The outposts and towers (and he wonders if she meant what will become the towers and shrines now) are treated similarly to how people use a subway, though the journal notes that only the Sheikah and military are comfortable using them. 

There were even cameras. Plural. Like it wasn’t a rare contraption limited only to decades of research.

 _It’s like a weird transition from medieval to modern_ , she wrote. 

Even before Calamity Ganon struck, Hyrule had been stuck with medieval technology for thousands of years. 

Oil lamps and torches for light, stone ovens and hearths for cooking, waycircles for teleporting (and he knows this is limited to only the Sheikah and Yiga, with the latter advancing it because they had no qualms with disobeying the kingdom’s orders to cease and desist their research). He’s never heard of anything like a camera besides the Sheikah Slate and the recording devices the Yiga have created over the years.

A world where their clan’s technology has flourished is a thought experiment every Yiga does. Millions of what ifs and what could have beens. The scraps of knowledge they have salvaged over the centuries have done wonders to their lives.

It’s a big reason why recruiting is easy, the quality of life of even a low-ranked Yiga is high, rivaling Zora Domain. Most Hylians who have a taste of it balks at returning to their normal way of living (contrary to what the Sheikah think, the Yiga don’t resort to pain in order to bring new blood to their clan—true loyalty lasts longer than fear, after all).

He imagines what life could be like if the royal family didn’t banish them, and it comes easily. He has a frame of reference now. Life of a world with advanced technology. Of transportation, of goods, of medicine, of communication. The memories rise up to him as easily as his anger.

The journal says Hyrule once had that.

He closes his eyes and inhales.

(They could have had that.)

Breathing out slowly, he clenches and unclenches his fists. Anger won’t do good right now, he’ll have time for it later. Opening his eyes, he picks up the journal and continues reading.

* * *

This is what he reads on each page of the journal. 

Desperation.

Born from her memories of what’s to come, raised from her lack of knowledge, and matured at the height of her predictions coming true. She’s played the games before and knows how they end, knows how to win.

He knows that’s not enough. 

It isn’t for him, and it wasn’t for her. The games are skin-deep, and many things are left up to interpretation. It makes dreaming the world beautiful. Imagination thrives on the pockets the games leave.

But it makes living through it hell.

There are scenes he can see unwritten in the journal. Effects of the changes she demands to make. She throws away etiquette for swords, powerful nobles for common soldiers, traditional wisdom for unconventional power. A strange girl with a stranger personality, unbefitting of her status. Unappealing for the allies her father has painstakingly gained.

 _I don’t care_ , she wrote, after describing another lecture from her father. _I only have one shot._

She writes that line often, as if reminding herself on why she’s doing this. Frustration that even the simplest of tasks can be seen as scandalous, shaving the already thin twig that was her reputation. 

She does care, but she throws it away regardless. Resigned to sacrifice that in order to…

Save the world?

No, she isn’t that altruistic.

_I want to live. Even if I get a third chance, I don’t want to lose what I have now._

“If there’s a war, then I’m prepared. If there isn’t, then I’m an idiot,” he murmurs, tracing the words with his finger. “But if there’s a war and I was too scared to take the risk, that’s even worse.” 

_I have to make it count._

He sighs and closes the book. “Damned if you do, and damned if you don’t, huh?” He leans back again. 

(He now wonders if the "wisdom" of the royal princesses were just memories of another life.)

It’s ninety-nine years since the Calamity and he has memories of a game that narrates the story of the hero who woke up after a hundred years of healing. He defeats the big bad, saves the princess in the castle, and saves Hyrule.

“And if he can’t?” he asks himself. There are several ways to die in Breath of the Wild, everything and anything could kill you. He remembers that much, and it’s not far from the truth. The game didn’t make players worry about hunger, thirst, and shelter--which is something that makes reality even trickier. 

The hero died once, who’s to say he won’t die again? 

If Calamity Ganon stays, the monsters will increase, and they don’t care if the Yiga swore allegiance to him or not. Humans are prey, and the monsters will slaughter them with glee.

They’re Yiga, they could even fight a lynel with careful planning. They could survive. If the princess is freed, she would hardly care about a clan branded as traitors. She wouldn’t give them anything, unlike Calamity Ganon who has given them near immortality.

But he’s at least assured that the princess doesn’t summon a horde of monsters and revives them every blood moon. She wouldn’t poison the water and land with thick sludge of toxic magic.

“And if he can?” he wonders, tapping his fingers. The monsters will stay dead, the guardians might stop being hostile, and perhaps malice-infested areas won’t spread.

But what of the Yiga? Are they going to repeat the same old pattern? Fight and fight and fight until they find a chance for a disaster like this to happen again? Then what? Gloat?

He’s the clan head, but it takes a hundred steps to do things. A constant teetering balance of pushing the clan forward and keeping it intact. There are times he wished his sibling had been chosen instead. Iga was the ideal Yiga, and he was most certainly not.

“Leaving and becoming a hermit would be easier than dealing with those old farts,” he grumbles, then blinks.

(Leaving _would_ be easier.)

“It’s stupid,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Crazy, dumb, the clan won’t agree to it.” They barely agreed to his order of leaving the hero alone.

_I don’t care._

“I only have a year, maybe a few more.” The game had no time limit on winning, a traitorous voice whispered, one that sounds eerily like his past life’s voice. A player could spend their whole life gathering shrooms in the Great Plateau for days if they wanted. “I don’t have the time, or resources, or support-”

_I only have one shot._

He isn’t the player in this game. He’s a monster to fight and defeat. He (was never made to win) didn’t know how to win. 

The memories didn’t switch his sides. He hates Hyrule and it’s bloody sins that it refuses to acknowledge. He still feels satisfaction for the royal family that fell. He feels nothing for the princess stuck in the castle.

He’s still a Yiga, he’s not a young child who had their entire personality dominated by another set of memories. He’s a grown man, he’s older than when he died in his past life. The only difference is that he knows he’s the villain.

(The only difference is that he knows what it’s like to die.)

_I want to live._

Damned if he does, damned if he doesn’t.

* * *

It’s late at night when she gets a message from her pad. Removing her patch and flicking it at the trash bin on the other side of the room, she reads the tentative request to visit her chamber, preferably as soon as possible. 

She huffs, even after all these years of being clan head, he’s still painfully polite. She sends a short reply. She lies on her bed and waits.

Five minutes later, three chimes alert her to someone in front of her door. Getting up, she wonders what’s so urgent that Kohga needs to talk to her at such an odd time. Another conflict with the council? Seems likely.

She opens the door to see him standing awkwardly in his night robes.

“Sipai,” he greets, giving a nervous smile. “Sorry for disturbing you.”

“Drop that title,” she sighs, stepping aside to let him in. “You’re the clan head.”

“And you’re my sipai,” he chirps, smile turning cheeky, he enters with a skip. “I wouldn’t have survived dealing with the old farts without you kicking the stupid out of me."

“Don’t sell yourself short.” She closes the door. A quick hand sign and she strengthens the privacy seals casted on her walls. “You would have figured out how to play them like a bamboo flute given time.”

He hums. “Talk less, smile more.” He bows with a flourish.

“Not my exact words, it's definitely more poetic.”

A laugh. “A summary of what I’ve gained these past few days!” He gives a dry smile. “Though it’s easier said than done.”

She wonders if he knows how effective it was on him. There was always a genuine quality to everything he did, and his looks (chubby or not) made him even more charming. 

Probably not. Kohga never liked showing his face. His eyes and unmarked skin are a constant flag of shame for him.

“You must have been in a hurry if you forgot to wear your mask,” she notes, looking at his glasses. They made him look younger. His eyes pop out more. “Is this a dire situation?”

"Ah, it's nothing like that."

"Coming from you, I doubt it."

"I was going to ask for help in a project."

Eyebrows raised, she leans forward to give him an inquiring look. "This isn't for official work, is it?"

He pushes his glasses, looking side to side. “Before I say my request, I want you to know that you can refuse.” His light tone becomes serious. “I won’t be asking as a clan head.”

“I trust you, you’ve always done things for the good of the clan.”

“But this one will risk my reputation, as low as it already is with the council,” he sighs, combing his hair. He looks at the walls, counting the painted flowers he could see. “And it will risk yours too, if you’re on board with it.”

“I’ve dealt with your crazy plans before.”

“Not like this.”

She crosses her arms. “Tell me what it is, I’ll be the judge of it.”

He takes a deep breath. “I want Calamity Ganon gone,” he states. “And I _will_ be making plans to destroy him.”

A ladybug’s skittering would be the most deafening thing in the room at this moment. 

She repeats the words he said in her mind. Will be making. Not might, not thinking of, not maybe. He will. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already started.

Risking his reputation would be putting it nicely, with his ancestry it would put him straight to suicide. The elders would suspect treason and would not give him mercy.

“W-” she swallows, staring at him in disbelief. “Why?”

“That thing has done more harm than good to our clan,” he spits, eyes shining, almost glowing, with passionate hate. “It’s forced us to move out of our homes, there are more monsters than people in Hyrule. And it’s an _eyesore._ Malice is disgusting, no matter which way you look at it. Take your pick.”

“You already convinced the clan that the hero is off-limits,” she points out, heart beating rapidly at every word he said. Each of them would be unheard of in the Yiga. The Calamity is the reason why several of them were gifted with immortality, even power. “That’s more than enough. Let him deal with it.”

“Yes, because he did such a good job the first time,” he says snidely. “Champions, guardians, divine beasts, and the army. And yet he still died. I can’t trust the hero to kill the Calamity.”

“Kohga, this is treasonous-”

 **_“Following Calamity Ganon was a mistake and that’s the truth!”_ **He throws his hands up. “We’re just too scared to admit it! We hide just like the rest of Hyrule, we only do it better! It took a bludgeoning to my head to make me see sense!”

“Just because you’ll never be gifted with revival, doesn’t mean the Calamity is a curse!” she snaps. “You’ve come too far to gamble it all on your tantrum!”

He blinks, lowering his hands. “Low blow, sipai,” he says mildly, voice brittle. “Kicking me hard again? You were the last one I expected to say that.”

She winces. “Kohga-”

“Is that your answer then?” He smiles that sweet and charming smile he puts up to the elders, fabricated and calculated. “I told you it would be crazy.”

“There’s crazy and then there’s suicide!” she says. “Why? You know what the Yiga want, we’ve always been at war with the royal family!”

“The Yiga won years ago.”

“What?”

He sighs, pushing his glasses. He doesn’t look at her. “When Calamity Ganon struck, that was our victory,” he says. “We won a hundred years ago.”

“The princess is still alive.”

“Hyrule has no monarchy, you can count the descendants of the royal family in one finger. And even if the princess comes back, I doubt the current Hyrule would accept her as the ruler.” He shakes his head. “All the villages and cities have their own form of government, a central ruler would be chafing. Especially from a young girl who’s been missing for a century.”

The silence would make a ladybug’s heartbeat sound like drums.

“What are we fighting for?” he asks. “We still hide like the Crown will order a purge any day, we kill like the knights of Hyrule are lurking within the Hylians, we spit on a princess we’ve never even met.”

“The Yiga shouldn’t forget the pain Hyrule has given us.” 

“There are better ways to do it than shouting at a corpse that has gone beyond rotting for decades,” he points out, scowling. “We could have spread our territory, we could have taken over villages, we could have done anything besides staying the same.” He clenches his fists. “What was the point of fighting if nothing changes?”

“We are,” she insists, desperate to pull him back from wherever he is. Too high and she may not reach him, too high and he may not survive the fall. “The Yiga have changed since then, surely you know this.”

“It’s too slow, borderline stagnant.” He looks up. “And now we’ve wasted our time. It’s too late to make any big changes. Now we can only pick from a limited stack.”

What? “Change doesn’t come in an instant, all you have to do is wait,” she reasons. “You’ve always been patient.”

He lets out a sad laugh. “I’ve always been cautious.”

“That keeps you alive!”

“I can’t call it living. I only got one shot in life, and I won’t throw it away. Not this time.” He laughs again. 

What?

“If you won’t support me, can I at least ask that you won’t oppose me?”

“Kohga…”

“Please?”

She should expose this to everyone, call out this treason. Hyrule was the enemy and the Calamity was a blessing. The goddesses never gave them immortality and power. They never protected them..

“Please, sipai?” he asks softly, eyes finally looking at her. Genuine, sincere, trusting. Pleading to her. 

He’s always looked young, blessed with features that gave him a boyish look. She loved teasing him for it, pinching his cheeks and laughing as he whines. He became more cherubic when he gained weight, which meant more cheek pinching, much to his dismay.

Damn her and her soft spot for him, she wishes he brought his mask.

“You won’t change your mind?” She tries one last time.

“No.”

She stares at him, he stares back. After more seconds of silence, she sighs and shakes her head. “As long as you leave me out of it.” 

There’s little to gain and more to lose with this venture. Kohga has always been ingenious, somehow pushing all the right and wrong buttons and making it work anyways. Maybe in his eyes, there’s nothing gained with the Calamity (and she won’t begrudge him for something he couldn’t control, once was too much), but to many, revival is too good of a safety net to lose.

And yet, she can’t deny the truth in Kohga’s gripes. Calamity Ganon had made Hyrule more dangerous with his army of monsters and guardians. The clan had to abandon a few of their bases when they encroached on their territory. 

They also relied on the other villages for trade and supplies, no matter how much the elders insist on the clan’s self-sufficiency. If the villages fall prey to monsters, the clan would be affected too.

But they're a small convenience that they can make do without. She doesn’t think it needs drastic actions. There’s nothing to lose if Calamity Ganon survives or falls, she doesn’t see the point of actively making one or the other happen. She doesn’t see the point of risking making the clan her enemy. 

She’s already given Kohga her advice, it’s his choice to follow it or not.

“I’ll make sure my plans won’t touch you at all,” he promises, giving a small smile. 

"Good."

(She’ll come to wish that Kohga wasn’t so good at keeping his word.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no chronological order to my chapter, I just write what comes to me.
> 
> I did write an Isekai Zelda chapter before this fic that's basically a prequel but I'm eeehhh in posting it just yet.
> 
>  **Language notes:**  
>  Sipai - an honorific for an upperclassmen, usually used to call a mentor or fellow comrade who has more experience than you. A common explanation of how this word came to be is that it came from the word "sipa" (meaning kick), and that upperclassmen tended to kick newbies if they did something stupid.


	3. sometimes the real treasure is a bunch of rusty metal, monster corpses, and an egg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A party venture to the castle. Not to save the princess.
> 
> They're Yiga, not Sheikah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The writing braincell comes and goes. Sometimes it makes me write 2k words, other times it went on vacation and I'm stuck with staring at a blank doc in despair.

Missions to the castle always required deliberate care and caution. If there aren't guardians, then there were monsters. If there aren't monsters, then there was malice. If there wasn't malice, then there was the risk of riling up Calamity Ganon and unintentionally sending a wave of guardians to all of Hyrule. 

This had happened decades ago, during the early days of the calamity, when the few surviving knights had snuck in the castle for a search and rescue. One of them went too close to Ganon’s lair and, well, when at one time you could count the number of Hylian villages with both hands, it now dwindled to one.

A century ago the castle was a symbol of royalty. Now it was just death.

But for all its danger (or maybe because of it), there are still people willing to poke into it once in a while. The castle had treasure. Walls destroyed to reveal hidden rooms, and no guards to stop them from taking precious heirlooms and items. If one can avoid the monsters and guardians at least.

Unless the monsters and guardians were the things you were after.

"If Master Kohga wants guardian parts and monster guts, why not literally everywhere but here?" he asks, kicking away another felled moblin. The first few times had been harrowing, especially with the constant fear of raising the alarms for nearby guardians. Now it was getting tiresome.

"He's already sent teams to Hateno to bring out all the deactivated guardians for study," another points out, throwing a kunai to the side, not even looking back to glance at the choking and gurgling moblin. She gives a pointed glare to the moblin he kicked. "Quit doing that, we need to harvest them before they poof out."

"We already have so much!" he complains, bringing out his pod and flipping it open, he swipes to the inventory, showing how all of his slots were filled to the brim with monster guts. Hearts, liver, horns, teeth, skin, even toenails. "My pod may as well be some monster organ bank!"

"That's puny compared to the amount the labs burn through," she snorts, bringing out her sword and putting the gurgling moblin out of its misery. If squishy smelly organs is what's needed to make sharper weapons and more effective spell scrolls, then so be it. "Would you rather be part of the Akkala raids? Because I know Master Kohga would appreciate volunteers."

He shivers. Akkala Citadel wasn't as creepy and depressing as Hyrule Castle, nor did it have lynels napping in the rooms, but at least they were only here to take whatever useful things they could find. Not completely and permanently wipe out any enemies and use it as a base.

"Do we really want that as the new base?" he wonders. "It looks cool and all, but it didn't really last that long, did it?"

His partner gives him a look. She was wearing a mask, they both were, yet she somehow conveyed how she thought of his intelligence even if he couldn't see her face. The squelching as she was slicing open the moblin didn't help.

"Is this some history lesson I missed because I wasn't born Yiga?"

"That and a lack of deductive reasoning," she snorts, pulling out the bones and putting it in her pod (he's so glad they have magic metal blocks instead of actual bags). "Unlike Hateno, the Citadel didn't have a princess to kill all the guardians. The fact that it lasted for hours is a feat in itself. It's not a crumbling pile of rocks, big, and built to withstand an army, can you say the same to anywhere else?"

"But wouldn't the guardians just be revived on the next blood moon?"

"Master Kohga's been part of the raids and using his magic to permanently destroy them."

"He can do that?"

She shrugs, standing up once the dissected moblin poofs away. "It's what he did to the lynel in the Gerudo base."

He looks at her in horror. "There's a lynel?!"

"Was," she corrects, looking at her pod. She flicks through several screens. "From what I've heard from my cousin, the Yiga moved out when a lynel decided to use it as its new home. Fast forward to a few decades and Master Kohga obliterated it with a big glowy blast."

Now it was his turn to look at her oddly. He hopes he can convey as much emotion just like her. "... A big glowy blast."

"My cousin's words, not mine." She shrugs again, unfazed by his masked look of judgment. Maybe it’s a naturally born Yiga thing. "Anyways, that's how he gained a lot of respect with the clan and became a candidate for head."

"I thought it was because he was nice," he admits. Yiga recruitment was always effective with Master Kohga. 

He would know. He got pulled into it like a moth to a flame. Or a Yiga to a banana (he still doesn’t get their fascination with the fruit, apples is definitely where it's at).

"He's killed people."

"But he's so friendly?"

“You can also be that and still kill people,” she points out.

* * *

They all rendezvous in what seemed to be the soldiers’ armory. Swords and shields rusted, some even corroded from malice. The racks and cabinets are showing signs of rot. With the many broken walls and destroyed ceilings, the entire castle has been exposed to the elements for almost a century.

He can imagine this room to be similar to the Yiga’s armory once. Filled to the brim with weapons, all maintained and polished. With soldiers coming in and out to either get or return their blades and shields. 

Now it was empty, with scavengers like them here to pick up any usable scraps.

“Did you loot the armory?” he asks, noticing some of the racks having dust-free marks and the cabinets open and lacking a lot of rusty equipment.

“Only the malice-free ones,” one of them answers. “Throw them in an octorok and they’ll be good as new.”

He raises an eyebrow. Nobody can see it, but maybe if he emotes hard enough, it will show through. “I didn’t think you guys used Hylian-style weapons.”

It hadn’t been difficult to use sickles and the slightly curved blades the Yiga were fond of. He’d never had any training with swords beyond knowing the sharp end goes inside your enemy, so there weren’t any habits he had to undo unlike the other new recruits, and sickles were usually what farming villages used as makeshift weapons anyways (besides pitchforks and hoes).

“It’s more of a source of metal for the forgers and artificers,” another explains when he brings up a leather bag and shakes it. Metallic clanks can be heard inside. “So long as it has nothing poisonous for octoroks, we can get chunks of metal and expect it to be rust free in just a few seconds.”

“Also a good time saver if you’re a little lazy in weapon maintenance, I’ve thrown my kunai in an octorok a few times for that reason,” his companion admits. She tilts her head, and he can imagine her raising a brow at the bag. “Ran out of space already, Crow?”

“It’s no archaeological dig or lab, but it was the home of the royal family for centuries. They’re bound to have treasure, even their tarnished silverware has too much value to ignore.” Crow answers, putting the leather bag behind him. “I’ve had to arrange the space in my pod to squeeze in as much as I can find.”

“Your codename outta be Magpie with how you’re collecting so much shiny things,” she snorts.

“At least it isn’t Trout,” he grumbles to himself. Seriously, everyone gets animals that sound cool and he gets a name that sounds like the next meal for dinner.

“You’re still a newbie, be glad it wasn’t Guppy,” Crow’s companion snickers.

“Or Squid.”

“Easy for both of you to say, you got Wolf!” He points at his companion. “And you got Fox!”

“Senior privilege!” Fox cackles.

“Children,” Crow sighs. “Can we get back to our jobs now?”

“Sorry, captain.”

“West side has a lynel and several monsters,” Wolf reports, bringing out her pod and showing the huge stack of monster parts she got. “We harvested as many organs as we could while avoiding it. We haven’t found any nesting grounds though.”

“Found a couple of rupee stashes in the servants’ quarters,” Trout adds. “There may be more if we look through the other rooms. There’s also several books in them and a couple of items that could at least be a good sell if we find a willing merchant or noble, but I ran out of space midway.”

“There’s so much, but it also feels like we’re getting so little because of it,” Fox groans. “It might take us several trips before we can clean this place out. I haven’t even combed through the library! The princess’ quarters already took too much of my time.”

“You went through her room?”

“Master Kohga suggested that should be one the first things we should find. He said the princess was an avid researcher of Sheikah tech, if there would be anything interesting, it would be there.”

“And?”

“A lot of books, a lot of journals, and a lot of notes,” they tick off. “Also some insight on royal family dynamics.”

“And what wisdom have you gathered in the noble drama of a hundred years ago?” Wolf asks dryly.

“King reminds me way too much like my parents, I kinda feel sorry for the princess.” Fox brings out their pod, tapping a few times on the screen. “Also I found something interesting in her study.”

They bring up the pod, showing the picture they selected. The rest of the group lean forward to take a closer look.

“What… is that?” Trout asks, looking at what appeared to be an angry rotten egg.

“It looks like a guardian scout,” Wolf says, peering closer. “A very melty guardian scout.”

“This looks smaller than a scout, and the shape is different,” Crow muses. “A guardian we haven’t encountered?”

“Thought so too, especially when it just popped out of nowhere in a flash of light,” Fox agrees, swiping to show more pictures. “I couldn’t investigate the study once it appeared, kept attacking me with its swords.”

Trout blinks. “Why didn’t you destroy it?” Guardian scouts were rare but easy to destroy compared to the usual guardians they were all used to, and if this was smaller, it should be a piece of cake.

“A guardian that we haven’t seen that just teleported in front of me? The artificers would murder us if we destroyed the opportunity to study it further.” Fox shudders. “It should be easier to carry back compared to those skywatchers. This one doesn’t shoot lasers, I think its eye is too damaged to do it.”

Wolf hums. “Let’s capture this guardian and call it a day. If it teleports, it may try to do it again. We shouldn’t lose this chance.” He brings out his pod and flips it open. “How are your pods?”

“All upgraded for me,” Fox answers. “Also got some spell scrolls just in case the rune cooldown takes too long.”

“Me too.”

“Same.”

“Right.” He taps on the screen several times. “I’ve sent a message to the base of our arrival and guardian addition. We’ll use the teleportation scroll once we’ve securely captured it, the artificers will be ready for a guardian cage at that time.”

“Shield and binding, then?”

“And stasis if it resists too much.”

“I’ve been in the clan for a year and your magic never ceases to amaze me,” Trout comments. It would take days on horseback usually, and that was if they didn’t carry all the items they held in their tiny pods. 

“It’s our selling point in recruiting for a reason,” Wolf says, pride in her voice. “The religion schtick is an old-fashioned way, pretty sure it’s only the older Yiga who still use that for recruiting.” And is also why very few of them are assigned recruitment duty nowadays.

“Why do you guys shout ‘For Calamity Ganon!’ so much then?”

“Why do you like saying ‘Hylia, help me!’ so much?”

“Less talking and more egg hunting,” Fox declares. “The sooner we leave, the sooner I can get a nice hot shower. I am not a fan of smelling like monster muck.”

Their statement is met with a chorus of agreeing grumbles.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, nay, or meh?


End file.
